Don't Call Us, We'll Call You
by Hoodoo
Summary: Poor Professor Xavier. What he must go through to find suitable mutants for the Xteam . . . sillyfic


Disclaimer: Any recognizable characters are the property of Marvel Comics. Which is good, because if I owned them they'd have to go through this crap all the time. Please don't take offense, and pretty-please don't sue. I've got very little $$$. Most of it's tied up into the dogs.

Little notes: again, please don't take offense. Weird things come off my keyboard when I'm bored and drinking wine coolers on Friday afternoons. And please remember, this could be worse—but I don't know how.

Enjoy!

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Don't Call Us, We'll Call You 

"Professor Xavier, come quick!" Jubilee cried breathlessly, bursting through the doors of his private study without knocking.

The Professor immediately hit the 'mute' button on the stereo, and dropped the pen he'd been using as a microphone to sing "American Badass" along with Kid Rock. He composed himself awkwardly and addressed the girl.

"Jubilation, how many times have I had to tell you—knock first! It's only common courtesy!"

"Everyone can hear you sing in here," she thought to herself peevishly. Out loud she replied, "But Professor! There's a big mob outside the front gates! We thought you ought to see!"  


"Friends of Humanity, again?" he muttered. "That's what—two times this month? Why have my mental blocks not affected these people?"  


"No, Professor," Jubilee insisted. "These aren't the Friends of Humanity! They're _mutants!"_

Startled and intrigued, he moved his chair to the front window. As Jubilee had proclaimed, a very large, very rowdy crowd had gathered by the front gates. Charles' face broke into a wide grin. 

"Fellow mutants, Jubilation!" he said joyfully. "People who've been downtrodden and persecuted! Hurry—hurry now and let these poor souls in."

"But—they aren't—" protested Jubilee as he pushed her from the room. "—they're not like us—"  


"Nonsense! Let them in, treat them kindly, and send them up here so I may meet them."

With that, the Professor gave her another excited smile. With a final shove, she was out the door. It closed behind her.

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Very soon, a large group of people had elbowed their way into Charles' office. Scott, who'd escorted them to the room, had attempted to talk to the Professor out of seeing them, but he'd been waved off impatiently. 

Most of the people were could pass as normal _homo sapien_, but Charles knew their hidden abilities were capable of things no normal human could dream of. A few were very obviously physical mutants; a short spindly man in front had a fluffy tail poking from the back of his pants, and one of the women was bright green.

"Welcome to the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning!" Charles said brightly. "What brings you all here en masse today? Normally we have to go out looking for fellow mutants one at a time."

A person in the back yelled, "We're mutants!"

"Yes, I've established that," Charles, ever patient, replied. "What brings you here?"

The green woman spoke up. "We're here because you offer sanctuary. Our mutations make us outcasts of society. Will you help us?"

Again Charles beamed warmly. "That is why the Institute was founded," he said proudly. "Within these walls, mutants can be free of discrimination. Free of persecution. We strive to offer education for both mutants and for non-mutant humans, so some day the world will be peaceful and not divided by fear and hate."

A person in the back yelled, "Yeah, we've read the brochure! We also know you don't make us work while we're living here. Free food, free room! Woo hoo!"

The crowd cheered.

Charles cleared his throat. "Yes, well . . . we'll talk of that later. Please, please, may I have your attention again?"

Slowly a 'shhhh, shhhh,' trickled through the throng. When they'd quieted down, he continued.

"Now, to better accommodate you and be able to better help you, please tell me of each of your particular mutations."

He was startled by the shouted, eager responses:

"I can smell ice cream in a closed freezer!"

"My fingernails glow in the dark!"

"I can talk to squirrels, and teach them to bark!" the bushy-tailed man supplied, his tail flicking wildly about his head.

"I can always tell you what time it is—without a watch!"

A person in the back yelled, "Streetlights go out when I pass under them!"

"I make things grow," the green woman said, then added thoughtfully, "but only poppies. Yes. Only pretty poppies."

"I've got three boobs!"

Charles swiveled his head in the direction of the last statement. The woman who spoke was clothed in a shirt that's buttons were straining and threatening to pop at any moment. He made a mental note of her.

The shouts continued:

"I always know what time it is—without a watch! Come on, ask me!"

"My hair feels like cotton balls!"

"The ability I have is to turn blue objects into green objects!"

"I create syndicated television shows!"

Overwhelmed by the responses, Charles was suddenly glad a large desk separated him from the rabble. But they were getting more worked up by the second, and were pushing and shoving to get in front. He suddenly realized he was alone in a relatively small room with a relatively large crowd of slightly deranged—but relatively mundane and ordinary—mutants. 

"Thank you, thank you all," he cried above the noise. 

They barely acknowledged him, still fighting for position. 

Scared for his life, Charles simultaneously pulled an emergency gas mask out from a secret drawer, hit a button on the underside of his desk, and screamed "PLEASE SHUT UP!"

The group did, staring with open mouths at him.

"Thank you—" he continued, slipping the mask over his face. His voice became muffled. "Just take a few deep breaths, and everything will be all right . . .."

Yellow gas filled the room, and the mutants dropped into unconsciousness.

When the gas cleared, the Professor mentally called for his X-men to drag the unmoving mutants from the premises. 

"I can't believe you didn't warn me, Jubilation," he reprimanded the girl.

"But I _tried_ to tell you—"

"No buts! You know the house rule: only mutants with _super_ powers are allowed to join the Institute! Super powers! Now go to your room. There will be no supper for you, young lady!"

Jubilee stomped off, muttering under breath, realizing the other X-men had made her go tell the Professor for just this reason.

Charles turned just as the last remaining few undesirables were being dragged from the room. He saw Hank pick up the large chested woman. Even while she was relaxed, her shirt was still strained.

"Oh, Henry—wait. She can stay."

Beast gave him a questioning glance.

"I _have_ been searching for a qualified secretary. I think she'll do nicely, don't you?"

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FIN

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author's note: you know, I just realized that I'm the person in the back. ha ha!


End file.
